Slow down, it's good for you too...

This post was inspired by having a few memories jogged after reading a favorite article by Dave Carty: Slow Down (Let Your Dog Work)

Dave is a good friend of mine and he is very much like an older brother I never had. I like this article of his, and like Dave, it has taken me more than a few years to learn to slow down while out in the field with my dogs. In retrospect I now know I pulled my dog(s) from so many birds over the years as I mindlessly death marched from where I was to where I was heading. Fortunately, they were all far better sports than I think I ever could have been had the situation been reversed. I also remember his Powder's last season in Arizona and remember the last point I ever saw her make as clearly as if it happened just this morning.

A rare shot of Mr. Dave

Dave's Powder

​We had selected an area I had hunted a few days prior, as the area had been rich with birds. We left late as was the custom when hunting with Dave in Arizona, after drinking far too much coffee in town no less. Dave also doesn’t like to drive the short way to this particular area, as he feels it’s too rough of a ride, so we went the long way with nearly double the mileage and at a stately pace befitting the gentleman David is. Normally this isn’t a bother as I truly enjoy spending time with Dave and having the bonus of being given a personal windshield tour of an area I am in love with. However, this day was one of many in southern Arizona where the temperatures can rise and become problematic even for fit dogs in the ‘dead of winter’.

After a few pit stops on our long and winding way, we arrived to the spot. Dave got his Chevy parked in one of the standard places for hunting the area and, it became quite apparent that the temperature was already getting the best of us. Dave was immediately expressing concern over ‘dropping’ Powder to hunt, but the desire to have her down was high, since it was clear she was not going to have another season. Having an old and frail dog now myself, you take it day by day. They could have six more months, or today might be their last. I know this is where Dave was, so I just did my best to be supportive and respect his decisions doubly so when it came to Powder.

Yes, this is that bull Mearns

The intent was to hike down one branch of a ‘Y’ shaped coulee, mill around at the junction and then head back up the other unmolested branch. So that is what we did with very little fanfare. I still have a soft spot for Brits since my own, Mountain Sal. As we hiked, keeping an ever-watchful eye on Powder, we reminisced over some of the hunts we had shared over her. One which will likely stick out in mind for as long as I am able to keep memories neatly cataloged, is the hunt in which Dave bagged a gorgeous fully masked adult bull Mearns over a nicely stuck point from Powder. Making the event even more memorable was the high overhead passing shot Dave successfully made to bag the bird. With the bird plucked from the sky, it pitched into some heavy cover. Powder was asked to make her retrieve, which she did so with purpose and grace and with an impressively gentle mouth the bird was retrieved perfectly preserved. Dave gifted me the bird and I had it mounted.

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Powder on the job

​I digress - after hiking ever so slowing down to the heart of the ‘Y’ the heat continued to rise, and it was clear Powder wasn’t really liking the heat. It was easy to see in her gait, how much water she had taken, so it was no surprise the level of Dave’s concern was ever so increasing with every few minutes. We paused in the shade in the crook of the ‘Y’ and talked about the easiest way to go back up, how best to try and keep Powder in the shade and debated at what point do we consider picking her up to carry her. The more we debated the pros and cons of our ideas, interspersed with our normal casual conversation Dave became very frustrated with himself for taking her ‘this far’ and that she hadn’t even gotten birdy. The risk wasn’t worth it, and I understood. As we talked about all of these things Dave kept his gaze uphill, presumably looking at the peak which the truck was parked just below. I, on the other hand, was watching Powder.

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​After taking some water, and a brief rest in the shade cast by some trees high on a cut bank, she began to reanimate. She was hunting. I had hunted with her enough to know her style. Powder was sure she had something. It wasn’t long when Dave stated, “We need to go now, there aren’t any birds here”. As I stared at Powder over Dave’s shoulder, I watched her lockup into a classic staunch point. I told Dave we should get busy and do our job, if for anything, to honor his ancient companion. At first, he didn’t believe me, but once he turned and saw the Old Girl casting her spell on a covey of quail, it was game on. We did our part and Powder was able to make a few retrieves, each made with possibly the biggest smile I had ever seen on her face. It was a good day, and that last time I ever had the joy of hunting with Powder. Yes, slowing down also lets you take things in, and etch them to your memory. What a lovely day. What a lovely memory. She wasn’t my dog, but I loved her just the same. 

Powder, such a lovely girl and a real pleasure to hunt with